


A Mistake

by Candyjar



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (it isn't very detailed but it is mentioned), Alcohol, Drunk Sex, Fluff, Hannor, M/M, Mild Smut, hankcon - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 09:59:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15507660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Candyjar/pseuds/Candyjar
Summary: Hank thought it would be fun to drink together and hang out, see what kind of drunk Connor was and how well he handled his booze. God, was Hank about to regret that.





	A Mistake

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't really how i see their relationship starting but i thought it'd be fun to write out  
> edit: :0 ! 100 kudos ? i'm glad so many people liked this, thanks for all who read and liked it! ;v;

It wasn't that long after the revolution that androids started to find ways to enjoy themselves like humans did. It only took half a year for something akin to alcohol to come onto the market. Connor originally didn't have much interest in it, nor really any other features, items, or upgrades that they came out with. He didn't have much of an interest in changing himself at all -- He still had his LED, and it had been a bitch to try to convince him to stop wearing his Cyberlife uniform. Of course, once Connor had discovered shirts with dogs on them, he'd never gone back.

Connor was, however, interested in Hank, and Hank was interested in Connor being drunk. Hank thought it would be fun to drink together and hang out, see what kind of drunk Connor was and how well he handled his booze. He'd been, in his own words, 'kinda psyched' about it. So Connor had agreed to purchasing some to try, and the two had settled in for a drinking game.

God, was Hank about to regret that.

Hank awoke in an all too-familiar jolt of panic as his stomach turned sourly, shoving a body next to him aside and sprinting for the bathroom. It wasn't until he'd thrown up four times, his arm draped over the toilet seat and his other hand clutching his silver hair, that he realized there had been a body to begin with.

Eyes wide and avoiding this realization, Hank brushed his teeth for a few minutes too long. He ducked into the hallway after stalling by the door for about another five minutes. He glanced around the hall, looking down it to see Sumo deep asleep on the couch, snoring and snuffling. The coffee table was, for whatever reason, broken in half. He looked to the floor and cursed under his breath. He'd have to buy a new one.

As he swore at the floor, he noticed his pants from last night and hurriedly gathered them up, pulling them on. He was thankful for something to cover his naked form, but the fact that they were on the floor in the damn hallway was something that sent anxiety prickling through him.

He couldn't remember a damn thing. How much had he fuckin' drank?

He took a deep breath and finally began to slowly, quietly turn his doorknob, gathering the courage to actually look up and into the room.

On his bed, half under some blankets, was a curled up Connor. It looked like he'd stayed in whatever position Hank had unceremoniously shoved him into. He was a little surprised that Connor hadn't woken up to that, actually -- the android appeared to still be in stasis. He was more surprised, however, that Connor was in his fucking bed, and if he was correct, completely fucking naked. Connor, his close friend and colleague. Connor, who he'd been hiding his considerably more-than-platonic feelings from for what felt like forever. Connor, the android sent by Cyberlife. _That_ fucking Connor.  
  
Hank's headache worsened considerably in the thirty seconds it took to take in the scene. There was, luckily, a glass of water and two painkillers on his nightstand for just such an occassion. When the fuck Connor had put those there, Hank had no idea. But to be fair, Hank also didn't have any idea what the fuck had happened to begin with.

Hank gulped down the pills with a hefty swig of the water and looked back at Connor cautiously, as if the mere weight of Hank's stare could wake him. Connor's hair was the messiest he'd ever seen it, his mouth open slightly, his body still slumped in that uncomfortable looking position Hank had put him in. He was absolutely still, and a part of Hank panged in worry for a moment before he noticed the swirling yellow LED. Definitely in stasis, then, not dead.

 _What, did ya think you fucked him to death? Dumbass._ Hank cursed internally, subsequently blanching at the mere thought of fucking him. _You're the one who thought it, dipshit. Yeah yeah, shut up you old twat._

Hank straightened as Connor's LED suddenly cycled to blue, his eyes sliding open unnaturally. Apparently the weight of his stare _had_ been enough to wake the android. Connor took less than a millisecond to examine his surroundings and immediately smiled softly at Hank, his eyes scanning him.

"Good morning." Connor greeted quietly.

"Good morning." Hank blurted.

Connor was not looking at him very platonically, Hank realized. In fact, one could say he was looking at him quite flirtatiously. One could say much too fucking flirtatiously. That person would be Hank.

"It is 6:12am," Connor started, his voice low. "I assume you're coming back to bed?"

That should've been a fairly innocent sentence. With the bedroom eyes Connor was currently flashing at him, it was clearly not meant to be.

What the absolute fuck was going on. Was this even real? Was he dreaming?

"I, uh, I guess so." Hank said, shifting a little.

He didn't move. Connor reached out and gently took his hand, pulling him closer. Hank clumsily got onto the bed, wincing as it creaked with his weight.

"How are you feeling?" Connor asked.

"Head hurts. I threw up four times." Hank replied.

Connor stroked his arm. "I'm sorry, Hank."

Hank could feel his face burning up. It felt like a goddamned forest fire was burning through his beard.

"I'll be fine." Hank croaked.

Connor coaxed him into lying down and curled up beside him, smoothing his hand over Hank's chest. Hank stared straight ahead at the ceiling, lying still and solid as a plank. A plank that was hilariously engulfed in flames.

Connor swirled a finger in Hank's chest hair, and Hank felt like Connor might as well have just shoved a grenade down his throat and held his mouth closed.

"You took the painkillers," Connor said. "Are they working yet?"

"Uh, yeah, headache's definitely clearing up."

Connor was suddenly smiling against his cheek, much too close for his comfort. "That's good."

If Hank's mind wasn't blank and imploding on itself before, it sure fuckin' did when Connor pressed a kiss to Hank's scruffy face.

Connor brought kisses across his beard and to his mouth, and _God_ were the android's lips soft. Hank's eyelids fluttered as he tried and failed to resist kissing him back. Connor slid his tongue against his, bringing a hand up and running it through Hank's hair. In all honesty, the lieutenant felt like he was floating in fucking heaven right about now, his mouth sliding hungrily against Connor's as the android moved closer.

Heaven turned into something decidedly more devilish when Connor slung a leg over Hank's torso and straddled him, his tongue still working wonders in the human's mouth. Hank could feel the smooth movement of the android's bare skin against his stomach, and with that his assumptions were confirmed -- this bitch was naked as hell.

"Would you like to reenact the events of last night?" Connor mumbled in a voice entirely too sultry against Hank's mouth, sending a surge of heat through the man despite the awkward wording.

"Last night," Hank choked. "I, uh, don't remember."

Connor froze and sat up, staring intensely down at Hank. "What?"

"Last night," Hank continued. "I uh... I don't remember it."

"Any of it?" Connor asked, his expression somehow managing to intensify further.

"Not really."

It felt like Connor's eyes were boring into his soul like some sort of spirit-weavil. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Hank struggled to think through the events from the night before that weren't clouded with whiskey.

His mouth felt dry. "Uhhh...I think...Sumo snatched a burger right out of my hands, and I was, sitting on the floor by the kitchen table? Kinda remember somethin' about music, too, but only vaguely."  
  
Connor stared for a moment, then swiftly slid off of Hank, got dressed, and left the room without a word. It felt like maybe twenty seconds had passed in the time it took him to do all that, but Hank couldn't be sure if the android was that fast or if Hank's brain was just malfunctioning.

Hank spent the next ten-ish minutes lying in bed, fighting down his erection and trying to think of how the hell this was going to end in any way other than fucking terrible. When he finally got a shirt on and walked into the living room, Connor was sitting on the couch, still as death, his LED violently flashing yellow with blinks of red.

"Uh, hey Con. You good?" Hank asked.

When Connor's gaze snapped toward him like a hawk, Hank found himself sort of wishing he hadn't asked. Maybe he should've just made himself coffee or something.

It took Connor a moment to speak. "You don't remember anything."

Hank slowly shook his head.

Connor looked away, leaning forward with his hands clasped in between his knees. "Fuck."

Hank stood awkwardly by the couch for a minute before sitting down beside him, keeping some distance between them. "What uh...what happened last night, exactly?"

"I should have known this would happen. You were too drunk. I wasn't thinking straight, though, it was ...strange and jumbled. I didn't think you were that drunk, that you'd forget. I should've known." Connor muttered, mostly to himself.

"Hey, uh, I mean, if this morning was any indication, I don't think either of us were thinking very... _straight_ last night." Hank said with a half-hearted chuckle.

Connor did not laugh. Instead, his LED flashed red for a second. It was silent, except for the sound of Sumo eating his food sloppily in the kitchen.

"We had sex." Connor said, his voice mechanically flat.

"Yeah I... I guess I kinda figured. Why do you remember when I don't? I swear I remember you downing that shit like nobody's business after the first couple."

"I think that is one side effect our 'alcohol' may not be able to give us," Connor replied. "I had quite a bit, but my memory is fully in tact. The files have not been corrupted."

"Oh."

They were quiet again. Hank cleared his throat. Shifted. Sumo started to noisily lap up water in the other room.

"Hey, I mean, look, shit like this happens all the time. Ya know? It's pretty commonplace. Nothing to be ashamed about, right?" Hank said.

Connor's LED was still yellow, but he seemed a little less stiff, enough for Hank to notice. So he continued, hoping he was calming him down successfully.

"It's just a part of life, I guess. It doesn't have to mean anything."

Connor's LED turned solid red.

He whipped his gaze to Hank, and damn did he look positively livid suddenly. His face was incredibly expressive, a medley of varying emotions, none of them good. Hank could barely identify them all, especially when he was distracted by the absolute terror that took hold of him the second Connor practically snapped his neck just to glare at him. Connor did not seem comforted, that was for sure.

"Doesn't have to mean anything?" Connor echoed. "So it didn't _mean_ anything to you, then?"

"Connor, I -- shit, I can't even remember it --" Hank started.

That was not the right thing to say. Connor stood abruptly, seething. "Whether or not you remember, even knowing it happened means nothing to you? It was just what, a _mistake_ that plenty of people make? I'm a _mistake?_ "

Hank stared up at him, eyes wide. He held his hands up defensively. He hadn't expected things to go this bad so fast. "Whoa, whoa, buddy, I--"

"Buddy?!"

Sumo glanced in nervously and gave a low woof. Connor's attention moved to Sumo, his expression softening slightly. He strode over, body stiff, and patted Sumo on the head to reassure him. He spoke to him softly, calmly, and let the dog out through the back door to use the bathroom and be away from the argument. Then he turned right the fuck back around and glared daggers at Hank.  
  
"Did," Hank started, voice shaking. "Did it mean something to _you?_ "

Connor's jaw was set tightly. He didn't reply, instead walking right past Hank and into the bathroom. He slammed the door, and a few minutes later, the shower turned on.  
  
Hank sat and tried to think. Clearly Connor was very, very upset. You didn't need to be Detroit's youngest Detective-turned-Lieutenant to realize that. What confused him was exactly _why_ he was so upset. Was it because it had been his first time? He didn't seem like he was necessarily upset that it had been with Hank. It seemed more like he was upset that Hank, in Connor's eyes, didn't seem to find it special. Of course, Hank found the very idea to be special -- only God knew how much time he'd spent badly wanting to kiss Connor, how much he thought about running his fingers through that soft, brown hair. How much he'd wanted him.

But Hank was... Hank. He was an old grouchy waste of space, and Connor deserved better. Should've gotten better, for his first. Hank knew there was no way Connor actually felt the same as he did about him. They'd been drunk as hell, and Hank had probably made the first move because he was so desperately head over heels for the goofy supercomputer. Of course Connor had reacted, he'd been drunk too, and he wasn't experienced with any of this yet.

God, Hank felt dirty. He, of all the fuckin' people in the world, had been Connor's first. A drunken fling instead of something more meaningful. Connor deserved so much more. No wonder he was so upset. Hank felt like an absolute shithead. He ran his fingers through his hair and let out a long, shaky sigh.

As he sat quietly, mulling everything over, he realized he could hear something other than the shower running. He furrowed his brows and stood, getting closer to the bathroom door and pressing an ear to it.

Crying. Connor was fucking crying.

Hank felt everything in him shatter to pieces. He stood, still and somber, next to the door for a few minutes before making his way into the kitchen and grabbing a drink.

The shower lasted for longer than it should've. When Connor came out, there was no sign that he'd been crying. He looked the same as always, but with a hard, stiff posture. One that reminded Hank of how Connor had been when they'd first met.

Hank downed the rest of the whiskey in his glass and poured himself more. Connor walked into the kitchen and stared down at Hank and the whiskey, his gaze judgemental as all hell.

"I'm sorry." Hank choked out.

"For what? Drinking when things get hard? Why would I expect otherwise, Lieutenant?" Connor said flatly.

Lieutenant. God, somehow that hurt more than the rest of the sentence.

Hank looked down into his glass. "That it was me."

"...What?"

"It shoulda been better for you," Hank said, his voice quivering. "Your first time, I mean. Shoulda been sober and with someone better. I'm sorry."

Connor sat at the table. "Hank."

Hank kept his gaze fixed on his glass.

"Hank. Look at me."

Hank sighed and dragged his eyes up to Connor. Connor's expression was still on the offended side, but it had softened, giving way to something else.

"Do you think I'm upset because I had sex with you?" Connor asked.

Hank shrugged, glancing downward.

"I'm not." Connor said.

Hank didn't reply.

"I...," Connor let out a frustrated sigh. "Hank, you absolute fucking idiot. I'm _glad_ it was you."

Hank blinked and looked up at him. "What?"

"I've been hoping for fucking _ever_ that it would be you, Hank," Connor replied, looking at Hank like he was the biggest fucking idiot in the world. "Do you even know how often I... how badly I wanted you to just _kiss_ me? No, what upsets me is that it finally happened and..."

Connor's voice broke, glitching robotically. "It finally happened and you don't even remember. It doesn't even mean anything to you."

Tears welled up in Connor's eyes and this time he was the one who looked away. "I... _I_ don't even mean anything to you."

"Whoa, whoa, of course you mean--"

"I'm still just your friend. It isn't like I don't want to be, I could be nothing but your friend forever and be happy. But it happened, and I thought it meant something, and it didn't. I thought you felt the same, and I was wrong. I... misread the situation." Connor put his face in his hands, the red glow of his LED shining through his fingers.

Hank put his hand on the shaking android's shoulder. "No, God, Connor, calm down. You're gonna fuckin' explode, just take a breath, alright?"

"I don't need to bre--" Connor started, his voice muffled.

"I know, but do it anyway."

Connor humored him, taking a deep, shaky breath, and letting it back out slowly.

"Connor, you mean... so much to me. I promise. You didn't," Hank sighed. "You didn't misread the situation. Just because I don't remember it doesn't mean it didn't mean anything to me, okay?"

"But you said--"

"I said that because I thought that's what you wanted. I thought you'd want to know that just because you fucked an old, washed up piece of shit alcoholic while drunk off your ass, it didn't mean you were... I dunno. Gross."

Connor looked up from his hands, his LED turning yellow. "You're not--"

"I am, Connor. I'm in my fifties, for fuck's sake. I'm a lazy piece of shit and I'm... I'm no spring chicken, okay?"

Connor ran a search for what the fuck 'spring chicken' was supposed to mean. He decided the saying was stupid. Hank was the springiest chicken.

"Hank. You're being illogical," Connor reached out and took Hank's hand. "I care about you, more than anything else. You are... You are precisely what I'd define as 'springy'."

Hank could feel his eyes stinging and tried to blink away the oncoming tears. He laughed through them as he processed what Connor was saying. "Really?"

"Well, technically I'd define springy as as an adjective, meaning 'springing back quickly when--"

"Yeah, yeah, God, don't say the whole thing please."

Connor smiled. "You know what I mean, though."

"Yeah. I, uh... Shit, I care about you, too."

Connor grabbed a fistful of Hank's shirt and pulled him over the table and into a kiss.

"You're an idiot, Lieutenant." Connor mumbled against his mouth.

"So book me, Detective." Hank replied with a chuckle.

Connor smiled and moved away from him, quirking up an eyebrow.

"I wasn't aware you were into being handcuffed, Lieutenant. I'll keep that in mind." Connor said slyly.

Hank's face reddened. "Jesus, Connor, two seconds in and you're already threatening to jump my bones again, huh?"

"Well, considering you can't remember the first time," Connor replied with a devilish grin. "I'll have to give you something to remember."

Hank blushed harder and Connor pressed another kiss to his lips. "Will you watch it with me?"

Hank leaned back to look at him, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. "Watch what?"

"The memory."

"The...memory? Of us? ...You have that recorded?" Hank asked, eyes wide.

"Of course. All my memories are in a viewable format if I connect to a device."

"What the goddamned fuck."

"Please, Hank?"

"You want me to watch me have sex? No way, Con. I'm not hot enough for that." Hank said, patting his stomach.

"I think you are." Connor said genuinely, his smile soft as he leaned forward and touched gently where Hank had patted.

"Connor, I..."

"Please?"

Connor batted his long eyelashes, staring at him with those big beautiful brown eyes. Hank cursed.

"...Fine, shit. Why?"

"I want you to... see it happen, since you can't remember. So at least you'll remember it from this."

Hank sighed and nodded. "Alright."

They made their way to the living room, sitting on the couch. The television flicked on immediately, and hardly a second passed before Connor's memories of the night before started playing.

"Oh, shit. This is in first person." Hank grumbled.

Connor looked confused. "...Of course it is? Were you expecting my memories to be recorded from _behind_ me?"

"Nah, but. God, this means I won't even get to see _you_ , just my old ass. This is gonna be fuckin' awful." Hank sighed, lying his head down against the top of the couch.

Connor rolled his eyes and kissed Hank's cheek. "Shut up."

Hank shifted, blushing at the small display of affection. He'd have to get used to that.  
  
Connor fast forwarded through most of it, passing the two drinking and talking. Though it was going by pretty fast, Hank was able to get the gist of the events; they'd gotten wasted, Hank had put on his favorite song and started headbanging, he and Connor had ended up dancing, Connor had clambered up onto the table to dance and Hank had followed, then Sumo (who seemed very excited by the whole ordeal). Then the table broke in half.

"Huh. So that's what happened." Hank mumbled.

"I'll scrap it later and pay for a new one." Connor replied.

"You don't have to pay, it's fine."

"Shh."

This wasn't over. Connor would _not_ be paying for the new coffee table. Instead of arguing more, though, Hank turned his attention back to the tv and shifted to sit closer to Connor. Connor smiled beside him as he put in an order for a new table using his own bank account.

Most of the quickly-scrambling-by memories were of the two talking and laughing and doing assorted other weird goofy shit, until at some point the two were laughing very close together. Connor stopped fast forwarding, and Hank watched the camera... er, Connor, stare into his own eyes on video. It was odd seeing things through Connor's vision. There was text appearing at the edges, various data, mostly about Hank as he scanned him. It was kind of distracting.

Memory-Connor leaned in first, which was more surprising to Hank than it should've beem. Screen-Hank's eyes were wide but quickly fluttered shut as he kissed Connor back, and the two immediately broke into full fledged making out. Hank watched as Connor started to remove Hank's shirt and the two stood, stumbling through the hall and pausing every .2 seconds to shove each other against walls and kiss harder. Hank's pants were flung to the floor and they brought themselves into the bedroom, Connor practically slamming the door behind them. Hank fell backward onto the bed and removed his boxers, and Now-Hank winced as he had to watch Connor gawk at his dick.

"Eugh, what a sight." Hank grumbled. Connor did not reply.

On the screen, Hank reached up and pulled Connor down on top of him, smashing their lips together. Connor worked on removing the rest of his own clothes and they repositioned themselves, Hank rolling on top of Connor and bringing kisses down his throat. Connor sighed shakily as Hank delved lower, and Now-Hank watched with more interest than he would care to admit as things progressed.  
  
At some point, Now-Hank made a face and looked over at Connor. "Wait a fuckin' minute. Did you just, like, keep your eyes open the whole fuckin' time or somethin'?"

Connor looked embarrassed. "I. Not... the whole time. At this point I've been trying to keep them open so I can see you while you... you know."

"But at some point you don't?"

"At some point I can no longer get myself to, no." Connor smirked.

The memory went on for longer than Hank had honestly expected it to, with parts of it blacking out as Memory-Connor started to have trouble holding his eyes open. Hank watched as it all wrapped up and ended, and Screen-Connor looked at him intently, his arm going over Hank's chest and playing with the hair like he'd done the next morning. Hank was a sweaty, disgusting mess, but Screen-Connor didn't seem nearly as disgusted by his appearance as Now-Hank did.

Screen-Connor muttered something to him softly, moving up to kiss him. Hank smiled and put his arm around him, kissing him back. Connor nuzzled into his neck once the kiss had broken.

"...Connor?" Hank said, his voice gentle and low.

"Yes, Hank?" Connor asked, looking back up at him.

Hank's eyes were closed and he looked like he was about to pass the fuck out. "I love you."

Connor blinked slowly. "I... I love you, too."

Connor's voice sounded full to the brim with happiness, and he pressed another kiss to his human's jaw before nuzzling against him again, cuddled up close.

"Good night, Hank."

Hank made a humming noise, and the screen darkened and then shut off entirely.

Connor didn't move. Hank looked at him. His LED was yellow. When Hank didn't say anything right away, the yellow was interrupted by a blip of red.

"That's why you wanted me to watch it, huh?" Hank asked softly.

"Partly."

"Man... can't believe my gay ass couldn't hold out on sayin' the fuckin' L word like thirty seconds after finishing." Hank chuckled.

Connor looked at him, his expression unreadable. "My gay ass was rather happy with that fact."

Hank snorted.

"... Do you--"

Hank interrupted him. "Of course I fuckin' do, asshole."

Connor beamed and practically lunged at him, gathering him up in his arms and planting his lips against Hank's. A warm feeling blossomed in Hank's chest.

"I love you, Hank. I have for a long time." Connor whispered, smiling against his mouth, his LED cycling a bright blue.

"Shit, I have too. I love you so fuckin' much, you rotisserie shithead." Hank replied with a grin.

And God, he really fuckin' did.

"Hank," Connor said. "Your heartrate and body temperature have increased, and you currently have an erection. Perhaps we should take ca--"

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ, Connor."

He really, _really_ fuckin' did.

**Author's Note:**

> hanks the springiest chicken
> 
> originally the memory bit was longer and uhhh more detailed but i decided to cut a bunch out, hopefully that made it easier to read :')


End file.
